


When I was Your Man

by 1MissMolly



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Sad with a Happy Ending, broken relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1MissMolly/pseuds/1MissMolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond receives an invitation in the mail for a wedding. He comes to realize he has blown his chance at happiness. </p>
<p>This is a multi chapter story based along the lines of the song When I was Your Man by Bruno Mars. There is a lot of angst and frustration but give it a try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When I was Your Man

Bond looked down at the cream colored card. An invitation to a wedding. People did that now. Invited friends and families to their celebrations.

 

_Phillip Mansfield and Jeremy Braithwaite_

_Request the presence of their friends at the celebration of their union_

Bond looked down at the stiff card and wondered if he really would be considered a friend any more. He wondered if Phillip could be that cruel. Flipping the card over, Bond studied the handwriting. Not Phillip’s. Of course not. The young man might have mastered keyboarding, encryption, and coding but simple penmanship was out of his grasp. Phillips handwriting was jerky block printing. Messy and difficult to read. He preferred texting and emails to formal correspondence. So the new boyfriend sent the invitation. Why? A warning, or was he tormenting Bond, or was it to gloat. _‘I have his love now, Bond, not you.’_

Bond tossed the invitation on the table and walked to the kitchen. He opened the cupboard he kept his liquor in and grabbed the first bottle his fingers wrapped around. No need for a glass. Bond broke the paper tax stamp and took a deep drink. The amber liquid burning slightly as it passed over his tongue and down his throat. His stomach gave one complaining cramp, then surrendered to what was to come. An evening of retrospective and regret.

That I Should have Bought you Flowers

It was one year and one week after M’s death before Bond slept with Q the first time. Bond had come to her grave on the anniversary of her death to lay a bouquet of roses. White roses. Wasn’t that what a son gives his mother? Not that M was Bond’s mother. No, never. She was argumentative and disagreeable. He commonly referred to her as bitch. Which she was. He had already buried his mother. Buried her long ago when he was eleven. M was not his mother.

He didn’t go to her funeral. He didn’t want to. She had died in his arms in that little chapel. He felt no reason to step into another church afterwards. Besides, her family would be there. Her children. He wasn’t one of them. He was an outsider, an employee, nothing more. So he chose to morn her privately. He went to her grave after the crowds had left. He brought her roses. White ones.

She wasn’t his mother, but she was the only woman who he openly rebelled against and privately wanted approval from. Watching for her bright blue eyes to twinkle in pride at trained killer. They had known each other for years. He had known her longer than any other woman in his life. She had groomed him and pushed him. Made him strive for more. Made him what he was. He was more hers, than her own offspring. Had to be. He just knew it.

As Bond walked across the gravel path to the grey head stone, he saw someone else sitting there. Dark wavy hair and slumped shoulders. He would know that God awful anorak anywhere. Q. The young computer genius was sitting on the marble bench next to M’s headstone. He was leaning forward resting his forearms on his knees. It appeared he was talking very softly. Sharing some secret with the dead woman.

Bond walked up twisting his heel in the gravel as he approached to make noise. No one enjoyed being surprised in a grave yard. Q heard Bond when the man was within ten feet of him. Q twisted to look partially over his shoulder at the agent.

It was obvious the young man had been crying. His eyes were red and his nose was bright pink against his pale cheeks.

“Oh, Bond, I . . . I was just leaving.” Q rose quickly and turned away from the agent. Ducking his head down and moving quickly down the path. Before Bond could say anything he was gone. Disappeared amongst the monuments and granite.

Bond sat down on the same marble bench. The warmth of the pervious occupant lessening the chill of the stone. Bond looked down and saw a bouquet of flowers on M’s grave. Yellow mums. He hated mums. Never like the smell of them. Too sour. He thought poor Q didn’t know better. That the young man would have thought mums were appropriate flowers for M.

Bond set his white roses beside the mums and looked over at the headstone. Olivia Mansfield.

“M, it looks like I’m not the only one who misses you.”

The next day, Monday morning, as Bond stood at the loading bench at the firing range, Q stood next to him explaining the improvements he had made to the Walther. Bond did not mention the encounter in the grave yard with Q. The young man seemed embarrassed by it, but Bond was still curious.

“Did you know M for long?” Bond said in a half voice, trying to avoid attention.

Q froze and looked up quickly. Confused, thinking he had misunderstood what had been said, Q asked. “I’m sorry?”

“M, she was important to you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You hadn’t know her long had you?”

“Longer than most people know. She . . . she guided me.” Q ducked his head down again.

“She preferred orphans.” Bond checked the ammunition.

“Yes, she told me they made the best operatives.”

“So you are an orphan.”

“Yes.”

Bond didn’t push any further.

That Friday night there was a knock on Bond’s door. He was surprised when he opened it and the young Quartermaster stood there looking at him. Q looked ridiculous in that coat of his. As if he was wearing his older brother’s clothing, to big, ill-fitting and bought for someone else. Bond stepped back and waved the young man in.

Q looked hesitantly around the flat. Of course Bond was drinking. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Bond stood there in a pair of jogging pants and a stained Navy t-shirt. A hole just under the collar and the threads worn bare. In his hand, he held a tumbler of scotch. The scent of smoke and alcohol hanging on Bond’s body.

“What do I owe the pleasure to, Q?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about M. I mean the old M.” He looked around the room trying to decide if he should sit down or take off running.

“My M is always M. Mallory is an imposter.” Bond said. His words slightly slurred. Q wondered how much he had to drink.

“You cared very deeply for her?”

Bond didn’t answer him. He just stood and stared, his bright blue eyes a shade red with liquor.

“She gave me a chance, when no one else would.” Q said finally looking up into Bond’s face. He nodded. She had pushed him into the double ‘O’ program even though his handlers said he wasn’t ready. “She was unique.”

“She was that.” Bond said and took another swig of his drink.

“She spoke often about you.” That took Bond by surprise. He didn’t think of M sharing with anyone, especially someone like Q. “She was proud of you.” Bond blinked and marshalled his expression. “I think it devastated her when she thought she had lost you that last time. That it was her fault for sending you out with an undertrained field agent.”

“Why would she talk to you about it?” Bond didn’t believe the boy.

“We . . . she was preparing me. She wanted me to know the difficulties of the job. Sending people to their deaths. It has a toll on those left behind.”

“Just not as bad as the ones she sent to die.” Bond took another drink.

Q watched him, then blinked rapidly as if trying to force tears back. “I’m sorry, I should leave.”

“Why did you come here, Q?”

“I just . . . I wanted to be with someone who understood. I’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry.” Q moved to go to the door.

“Don’t leave.” Bond said, but did not move to stop him.

“No, I should just leave you alone.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

Q looked back at the agent, then quickly opened the door and rushed out of the flat. Bond slammed the door close and went to find the bottle of scotch.

The following night, the knock came again. A sober Bond opened the door to Q. The young man stood staring up at the agent, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

“Is it true what you said to Silva? Is it true it wasn’t your first time?” He sounded so unsure of himself.

Bond felt the desire hit him like a lorry. He pulled Q into the flat and started kissing him. The warmth of Q’s lips surprised the agent. As thin and pale as Q was, Bond had been certain the young man would have cool skin. But no, Q was warm, very warm. Bond’s fingers sought out the warm flesh as he removed layers of clothing. Pulling the young man back to his bed room. Taking whatever Q was willing to give him. They shared a common need. The emptiness of a hole that M once filled in their lives. Together, they were going to fill that hole and feel complete again.

Bond enjoyed male lovers. He didn’t have to gentle with them. He could indulge his baser needs without fear of harming the other. That’s exactly what he did. It seemed Q needed it that way. He needed Bond to rough and demanding. Pushing Q hard. As Bond slipped deeper into the young man before Q was truly ready, Bond relished the cry from the kiss swollen lips.

Bond forced Q down on the mattress, not slowing his thrusts as Q fisted at the sheets, panting. Q’s groans giving way quickly to demands of more and moans of pleasure. Bond let his control slip and gripped Q hard. The young man would have dark bruise on his skin by morning. He felt the rise of his climax take hold before he knew it. He was only thankful Q came before him. The young man whimpering as Bond felt the muscles close tight around him. This was not love making, this was animalistic and exactly what both men needed.

Bond collapsed on the bed beside the panting Quartermaster. Their bodies’ slick with sweat and release. Their hearts beating in unison a staccato pace. Q moaned as he twisted into James’ body. The blonde letting his arm wrap around Q’s shoulder. They lay there together waiting for the euphoria to clear.

Then Q ducked his head again and started to pull away. James held him tight to his shoulder and refused to let the man go.

“What is your name?” James whispered into the dark.

“Phillip.”

“Please stay, Phillip.” And he did.

An hour later, James laid on his back watching as Q rode him to ecstasy. The pale skin of the young man tinted pink as Q shouted to the ceiling. His fingernails dragging dark red lines down James’ torso. The older man shoving up as hard as he could into the Quartermaster. James pulled Q down to his lips and kissed him deeply.

“We need to shower.” Q murmured into James’ as the man’s hands moved slowly over Q’s body. “Can you walk?”

“I was going to ask you that.” James laughed into Q’s mouth.

Slowly and carefully, Q eased himself out of the bed on onto the floor. Bond smirked as he noticed how difficult Q was having with walking. The young man’s body was littered with bruises and bite marks.

“Oh, God. I look like I have some horrible disease.” Q said seeing himself in the mirror.

“Good, get back into bed.” James said as he stepped up behind Q and wrapped his arms around the young man’s narrow waist.

Q leaned his head back onto James shoulder and closed his eyes. He hummed and felt the warm brush of lips on his collar bone. James was quickly becoming addicted to the taste of Q’s skin.

“How long can you stay?” James asked.

“For a while.”

“Then let’s shower then get back into bed. There are other things I want to do to you before you disappear.”

The next two days, they spent in bed, only leaving to grab a bite of food or a shower, then quickly return to the sanctuary of the sheets. No questions were asked. No confessions were made. It was just the two of them living in the moment. Enjoying each other and sharing the need and fulfillment.

Monday morning, Bond woke up alone. He didn’t like it.

He walked into the bull pen of Q Branch. Q was standing at his computer station working. Bond held back and watched the young man. Q was wearing his mustard yellow cardigan and checked trousers. His hair was styled into a more acceptable arrangement than the last time Bond saw it but still looked like a demented squirrel had combed it. Q had shaved and his pale cheeks seemed thin and hollow. Bond studied that body. He knew that under those ill-fitting clothes were his marks. The marks Bond had left claiming that body as his own property. Bond smirked at the memory of Q. The wonderful erotic sounds the young man could make. The whipcord muscles hiding underneath pale skin. The soft downy hair surrounding Q’s cock. Bond felt his body become interested again in the young man.

As Q turned, he looked up and saw Bond leaning against one on the desks. The agent’s eyes burning brightly. Q nodded as he passed by.

“007.”

“Q.”

“Are you needing something?”

“Yes, I need to clarify information I have received.” Bond smiled.

“Oh, yes. Please follow me.” Q led Bond into his office. Closing the door after the agent entered.

Bond shoved Q against the wall and pressed into the young man. His hands flush to the wall on either side of Q’s head.

“I missed you this morning.” Bond whispered as he slowly bowed down to kiss Q’s neck. “There were things I wanted to discuss with you.”

“I was there this morning. You were just asleep.” Q shifted himself to give Bond better access. His lips reaching for Bond’s neck.

“You left too early.” Bond kept kissing up Q’s neck and reaching back bite at the tender tissue under his ear.

Q’s hand slipped down and palmed at Bond’s hardened length. James groaned as Q pressed harder with circular motion. “James, I need to tell you something.”

Bond nipped hard at Q’s ear lope. “The only thing I need to know is when you are getting off work and coming back to my flat.”

“James, please.” Bond growled again. “James, my name is . . . my name is Phillip Mansfield.”

Bond pulled back and looked up into Q’s face. Q swallowed loudly.

“Phillip Mansfield, Olivia Mansfield’s son.”

“M?” Bond pulled back further, pulling away from Q’s touch.

“Yes.”

Bond yanked the door open and left. Q stood in the door way watching as the agent marched out of bull pen.

Alec found Bond four days later in a brothel in Edinburgh. The tall Russian pulled his friend out of bed he was sharing with two women and threw him in the car. The drive from Scotland to London was broken up by cups of coffee and paracetamol tablets. When Bond spoke it was to curse. Alec wasn’t sure what had happened, only that the Quartermaster had requested that Trevelyan find James covertly and return him to London before Mallory found out he was missing.

They had been lucky. Within forty-eight hours after the rescue, Bond had been called up for a mission in Madrid. He stood reading the brief in Mallory’s office when Q came in. The agent didn’t even look up at the young man when Q greeted him. Unfazed, Q set Bond’s gun and equipment down on the desk for the man to review. With everything in order, Bond left for mission. Not once acknowledging Q’s presences.

The mission had taken Bond from Madrid to Malta to Algeria. He had been away from England for a month. Now, he was sitting on a hillside in an outcrop of rocks, as the desert sun began to warm the landscape around him. He was waiting for his mark. A member of a terrorist group, who had made the mistake of targeting England. Bond had his sniper rifle sighted in at three hundred yards. Not a difficult shot, but it was the waiting that was making it hard. Waiting meant he had time to think. And what else did he think about but Q.

The young Quartermaster had been professional throughout the entire mission. Guiding Bond through the streets of Madrid. Having transportation ready at a moment’s notice. Even getting the sniper rifle delivered to Bond in Constantine. Bond had to admit that Q had been the best Quartermaster he had ever worked with. He had been there the entire time to help Bond and never once brought up the weekend the two of them had shared together.

Bond sat as the sun started to heat the rocks around him. Soon it would be over forty degrees in the shade. He hoped his mark would arrive soon.

His mind went back to Q. The young man hadn’t told Bond who he was. He had happily went to bed with Bond, purposefully withholding the truth that he was M’s son. It made Bond uncomfortable. It made his skin twitch as if he swam through a swamp. Q knew how Bond felt about M. Knew how important she was to the agent. He bedded Bond anyway. Slept with him knowing Bond was as close to her as her own son would be. As close as Phillip had been.

Bond leaned back further into the shade of the rocks. Was that Bond’s problem with Q? For some insane reason he considered his relationship with Q as incest. That was ridiculous. Q wasn’t his brother. M wasn’t his mother. He was an outsider. Was Bond jealous? Jealous of Phillip? Jealous of the real son?

Bond realized he was a selfish bastard. Q hadn’t come there to comfort Bond, he came there to be comforted. He needed Bond. He needed the man to help him with his loss and loneliness. If people had known he was M’s son, no one would believe he had earned the position of Quartermaster on his own merits. No one would have trusted him regardless he was the best one they had had in years. Bond realized, Q had to be quiet.

Q had trusted Bond with his secret. He trusted Bond with his pain and his heart. How had Bond repaid him? He walked away and went on a four day drunk.

Bond saw the mark’s truck pull up to the hovel that was going to be the meeting place between him and the government official. Bond leaned forward and shouldered the rifle. He lowered his face to the stock. He rubbed his cheek against the carbon composite, then started concentrating on his breathing. The second vehicle arrived and the man in a uniform climbed out of the passenger seat. The terrorist and the government man hugged. Bond pulled the trigger. Both men flinched as the single round cut through both of them. Their guards spun around trying to locate the location of the shooter. Bond had already slipped back into the shadows of the rocks.

An hour later, Bond’s Landrover was traveling over the rocky ground of North Africa. He tapped his ear mic calling Q Branch in.

“Yes, 007, Q here.”

“Mission complete.” Bond said with a slight smile to his face.

“Excellent, very well done.” Bond heard Q’s clear precise diction.

“Q, I’m on my way home. I’ll be seeing you soon.” There was a heavy pause. Then.

“Very good, 007. We will be looking forward to it. Q out.”

Bond opened the door of his flat and found Q sitting on his couch. The young man looked hesitant and a little worried. Bond closed the door and walked over and took the man’s hand. James led Q into the bedroom and that night he made love to him for the first time.

 


	2. And Held Your Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to relieve any confusion. The first part of the chapters are the currant day and second part of each chapter is James' memories.

It was warm for this earlier in the year. Bond was standing bare chested on the balcony looking out over Hyde Park. The lights of the city were coming on and the sound of laughter from the park was carried on the breeze. He got the flat for the view but he was planning on moving soon. The flat was too close to the Imperial and Royal Colleges. There were too many students. Strangers shouting at odd hours, and the soft thrumming of music through the walls was unnerving to the agent.

Bond leaned against the railing, his forearms resting on it. The cigarette was burning low and the smoke was being carried away on the light wind. He wondered if Q would have liked the view from the flat. Q always wanted a better view but they chose their flat based on location and not esthetics. Q was always practical, Bond was not. Bond like to splurge on things. Do the outrageous just to see Q reaction. The flustered expression and pink tinted cheeks. How Q would roll his jade green eyes at Bond before the older man would pull him close for a deep kiss.

Bond flicked the butt away as he stood up straight and went looking for the bottle of alcohol. He tried to only focus on the end. The final days of the lives together. The shouting and accusations were easier to handle. He didn’t want to remember the beginnings. Not the beginning or the middle, but after receiving the invitation for the wedding, Bond could think of nothing else. They all came back to him unbidden. As if to torment the agent with the knowledge of how close he came to being happy.

 

And Held your Hand

 

Q didn’t understand. They had been seeing each other for over six months now. Whenever Bond was home in London, they spend the nights together. Bond had a key to Q’s flat and visa versa. It just made sense for the two of them to finally move in together. Why waste time with two flats? Traveling back and forth between the two to change clothes before they showed up at MI6.

Q tried logic. It would be better for Q to be living in James’ flat in case he chose to go off grid again. Then Q could keep his belongings from being sold out from under Bond. James just glared at the young man.

He tried sex. If they lived together, they could spend more time in bed instead of driving back and forth between flat blocks. Bond said he liked driving, even in London traffic.

Q refused to beg.

It was late Saturday night and they were sitting on the floor of Bond’s flat, eating take away, when Q looked up puzzled.

“Have you ever lived with someone else?”

“You mean like a girlfriend or boyfriend?” Bond said as he stabbed at a fried dumpling.

“Yes.”

“Actually, no. I shared a boat with a woman once. We lived on it for about a month. But we never got around to making any formal plans. I lived in the barracks for awhile in the Navy. Alec and I shared bunks.”

“So that’s the reason you don’t want to live together? You prefer your own space?”

Bond looked up at the young man. He saw the hesitant look in Q’s eyes.

“Damn it Q, why are you still harping on this? No, I don’t want to give up my privacy. Why the fuck should I?”

Q ducked his head down and grabbed his chopsticks.

“Sorry, James. I was just trying to understand.”

“Why is it so damn important to you we live together?” Bond pushed his plate away from him.

“I just thought it was something people did once they were in a relationship for a while.”

There it was, the word Bond had been avoiding. Relationship. Q wanted a relationship. He wanted more than Bond was able to provide. He leaned back against the couch and looked around his flat. Nothing in it was over three years old. Nothing was of major importance to him. Nothing of value. Bond was approaching forty and was living like he did when he was a teenager. Transient and inconstant. What value was that to someone like Q? The young man wanted a home, a life, a partner. Bond had never been able to be that for anyone. Not for Vesper, or Tracy, or even Alec. How could he be that for the young man sharing his bed?

“I don’t think you can qualify what we have as a relationship.” Bond said hating himself as soon as he said it.

Q looked up quickly then turned away. Bond knew he had said the wrong thing.

“Q, look at my life. I’m thirteen years your senior. I probably won’t even make it to retiring age in five years. If I don’t have a future, how can we have a future?”

“We have a ‘now’.”

“And we both know that’s not good enough to build a relationship on. You deserve more, better.”

Q spun back around and slapped James’ face. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” he yelled. “DON’T YOU GIVE ME, ‘YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME’ SPEECH.”

Bond sat there with a stinging face trying to remember what had said that was so wrong.

“Don’t tell me you’re pushing me away for my own good. I’m not fucking better than you. I don’t deserve better than you. I do deserve to be loved, though. I deserve honesty and hope and love.” Q stood up and towered over Bond. “I’m just asking for a chance for that. A chance to make us happy. To see we are good for each other. Don’t you dare talk about dying. Too many people have already died.”

Q started to march off, as Bond rolled up onto his feet and stood. He reached out and grabbed Q’s wrist and pulled the young man back to him. Pulling him tight against his body, as he felt the first wave a tears hit.

“I’m sorry. I handle everything wrong. Everything.” James pulled Q’s head down on to his shoulder. His fingers carded through Q’s curls. “Phillip, don’t leave me. Don’t leave.”

“I won’t bring it up again, about moving in. I’m sorry I pushed.”

They just stood there holding each other as Q’s body finally relaxed into James. The food was cold now and forgotten. The evening was lost and the only things gained were more walls between them. Q reached out for James’ hand and it wasn’t there.

When James woke in the morning, Q was gone. He had left during the night as James slept. James found the note in the kitchen next to the coffee maker.

_‘I need some time away. Please don’t call or come down to Q Branch today. I’ll call you soon. Q’_

Bond sat down at the table and wondered if this was what he really wanted. The isolation and indifference he had lived his entire adult life. He had been alone for so very long. Would he ever be able to live with another human being? Would he want too? Was Q worth it?

A month later they moved in together.

The next mission went badly. There had been numerous casualties. Many of them had been innocent bystanders. People who didn’t even know why they were being shot at. It had all ended with only a marginal success. Bond arrived back in London a broken and beaten man. He wanted nothing more than to find his bed and crawl into it with a bottle. Disappear into a drunken stupor for a week. That was his plan, then he opened the door of the flat.

Q was waiting for him. He pulled James into a hug. Holding tight to the man until James’ body relaxed and leaned into Q’s. Then Q gently guided James to the bathroom and to the shower. Slowly and carefully, Q disrobed the other man. Taking care of the numerous injuries and bruises. He pulled James into the warm water of the shower and gently rubbed the flannel of the marred skin and body of his lover. Q lovingly cleaned James’ body and caressed him. Soft, light kisses were placed on every mark, every bruise, every injury. As if Q was trying desperately to reach down and sooth James’ soul.

When they were done, Q guided James to the bed and laid him down. Q crawled in beside him and wrapped his body around the wounded warrior. Pulling him tight. Forcing his warmth into Bond’s cold heart. James twist in Q’s grasp and finally buried his face into Q’s neck. Breathing deeply the scent of his lover. A calmness passed over James’ psyche. He relaxed and chose to forget. Holding tight the only thing that matter at that moment. The man next to him.

James Bond recovered from the disastrous mission faster than he ever had before. Medical called him in for a psych evaluation. He grudging went but to the doctors’ surprise, Bond was not faking his recovery. Q made sure he was home every night and together the genius and the killer fixed dinner and cuddled on the couch. Q made no demands and James made no complaints. They just lived together and cared for each other.

The next mission went better, and Q was still there when Bond returned. The agent smiled more and drank less. He felt a calmness inside that he never knew he was missing. It was good, but also confusing. He couldn’t imagine how this thin pale boy could change him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you for the kudos and the comments. They help my writing and make easier for me to continue knowing people are enjoying it. Thank you.


	3. Should Have Gave You all my Hours

The flat was dark. Bond had not turned any of the lights on. He was leaning back on the couch as he sipped the alcohol from the bottle, letting it burn as it traveled down inside him. He was glad it was dark. That way he didn’t have to see the couch he was sitting on. It was the one Q had bought for them. It was big enough for the two of them to lay on together. It was navy blue and fine smooth leather, warm to the touch. Bond sat on the couch in just his jogging pants. He didn’t want to wrap up in the throw that was tossed in the corner of the couch. It was Q’s old throw. His scent still clung to it after two years. Bond would never admit that the reason he had taken it when he removed his things from the flat years ago was because it had been Q’s. He couldn’t even be honest with himself about the reason.

Bond palmed the smooth leather. Bond closed his eyes and remembered touching Q’s skin. How smooth and soft it was. How warm Q was. He enjoyed caressing the young man. Just holding him close and letting his fingers glide across the pale flesh. James enjoyed how responsive Q was to his touch. How the young man would purr in his arms and arch into the touches. Q was sensual. Feline. Indulgent.

Bond took another deep drink of alcohol. He closed his eyes and tried to remember why he walked away. What was so wrong with living with Q? He could feel the sting in the back of his eyes. He set the bottle down and reached for the throw. Pulling it close to his face so he could breathe in the scent on it again.

 

Should Have Gave You all my Hours

 

Alec and James were sitting on the leather couch yelling at the telly. The ref had made a ridiculous call and James’ team had just lost their best flanker. Alec just threw a pillow at the screen when the door opened and Q walked.

“You’re home early,” James said from the couch.

Q looked at the two men and then at the telly. He rubbed his brow and let his messenger bag slip from his shoulder. “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too good. I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Okay, is there anything you need?” James sat up studying the man’s face. Q looked paler than normal and he seemed anxious. The young man ducked his head and turned away.

“No, I’m fine. I just need to sleep for a while.”

Q disappeared down the hall and Bond heard the bedroom door close.

“Do you want me to leave?” Alec asked looking back at his friend.

“No, no, Q’s fine. He’s just been putting in long hours lately. Just tired.” James reassured Alec.

The two men went back to the game and ignored the computer genius in the other room. As the game progressed and Alec and James anger increased. Finally, after a sounding defeat, the two agents groaned and decided a night at the pub was needed. Bond went and knocked on the bedroom door.

“Q, Alec and I are going down to the pub, do you want to join us?” There was no answer. James slowly opened the door. Q was laying on the bed with his back to the door. The blonde stood still for a moment then closed the door softly and headed back to Alec. “He’s asleep, let’s go.”

The two men just stepped out on to the pavement when Bond’s mobile pinged with a message. He pulled it from his pocket and looked.

_‘How is Q? Eve’_

Bond looked confused at the message. He typed back, _‘Sleeping’._ Then caught up to Alec who had kept walking. Bond’s mobile rang in his pocket.

“Bond here.”

“What did he say?” Eve rushed out to say.

“What did who say about what?” Bond asked. His internal alarms were going off.

“Q! What did he say about Fowler?”

Bond grabbed Alec’s forearm and pulled the man to a stop. “What do you mean, what did Q say about Fowler?”

“Bond you’re an idiot. Q was on the comms today with Fowler.” Bond knew Q had be tasked with guiding 009, Fowler, through North Korea. That was the reason Q had been putting in long hours. It was a difficult mission and required Q to be there constantly. Fowler’s mission was to infiltrate a suspected missile facility and report back on the progress the North Koreans were having.

“What happened to Fowler?”

“He was caught in a trap. Betrayed. He was shot. Q shut the systems down and blocked the comms link so only he could hear what Fowler was saying and he stayed with him till he died.”

Bond spun around and took off running back to the flat. He rushed in and headed right to the bedroom. Bond didn’t knock. He just opened the bedroom door and saw Q sitting up. His feet were over the edge of the bed and his head was cradled in his hands.

“I thought you left,” was all Q could say.

“Eve, called. She told me about 009. Why didn’t you say anything?” Bond walked slowly to the man and knelt down in front of him.

“What is there to say? I wasn’t quick enough, I wasn’t smart enough to see it was a trap. I led Fowler to his death. And even then, when he was dying, I kept lying to him.”

“What did you say?” Bond reached up to tip Q’s face so he could look into the boy’s eyes.

“I told him to hang on. That an extraction team were in route. I lied. Mallory refused to send one in. I closed the comm link so he could only hear me. I told him we weren’t going to leave him behind. We were coming.” Tears streaked down Q’s face.

“How badly was he hit?” Bond wanted to strangle Mallory.

“His lung. It was actually quick. He only lasted for five minutes, then he was gone.” The extraction team would never had made it to him in time even if they had been sent. “Oh, God, James what did I do?!”

James leaned up on his knees and wrapped his arms around the shaking man. “You gave him hope. You let him know he wasn’t alone.”

“I should have known. I should have seen there was a discrepancy between the reports.”

“Phillip, you tried. And you stayed with him. He wasn’t alone. That is what mattered.”

James stood up and pulled Q to his feet. He carefully removed Q’s cardigan and his tie. Helping the young man to lay back down, James removed Q’s shoes. He pulled the duvet over Q’s trembling body, then dragged his fingers through Q’s fringe, pushing it back out his eyes.

“Don’t leave, please. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I won’t. Just let me lock up and make sure everything is secure.” James nodded at the reclining man.

Stepping outside the bedroom door, James quickly texted Eve.

_‘Q won’t be in for a few days. Tell Medical to stay away from him.’_

Bond locked up the flat and set the alarm. He came back in and Q was asleep, softly snoring as James pulled the duvet back and crawled in beside him. Not wanting to wake the sleeping man, Bond just curved his body around Q’s without touching him. He rested his hand on Q’s hip and let his mind go blank. Now was not the time to worry.

James woke hours later to see Q’s face turned towards him. The dark hazel eyes watching him. James reached out and took both of Q’s hands in his own, keeping his eyes locked on Q’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Phillip?”

Q glanced away for a moment then looked back. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“No, tell me. Why? We don’t keep secrets from each other. We don’t hide from the truth. You came home and told me you weren’t feeling well, not that you had to listen to an agent die. Why didn’t tell me?”

Q closed his eyes and bit his lip. His eyes began to flood again with tears.

“I didn’t think I could.”

“You couldn’t tell me an agent died, or you couldn’t tell me you thought you were to blame? You’re not you know.”

“I couldn’t talk to you about a double ‘O’ dying.”

“Q, everyone dies eventually.”

Q swallowed his pain back. “Everyone dies, but I don’t care about everyone. I care about you.”

“I’m right here, Q.”

The young man opened his eyes and studied the agent’s features closely. Q leaned forward and kissed James. It was an affirmation, just knowing Bond was still there with him.

“I can’t . . . the thought of something happening to you . . . I can’t lose you.”

“I’m right here.”

Q moved closer and wrapped James up in his arms. Just holding him tight to the young man’s body. “I’m sorry. I always feel like my very existence is dependent on you. I can’t breathe without you. If I disappeared, you’d notice but you’d keep living. If something happened to you, I would die.”

Bond tipped back and pulled Q’s face up to his between his two palms. “You are never to disappear. I would find you were ever you go. You will never understand how important you are to me. We will be together. Always.”

Q started blinking rapidly, as if trying to understand a difficult problem. Q nodded once then closed his eyes and pushed his face into Bond’s chest.

“Don’t leave me please, don’t leave.”

“Never, Phillip.”  



	4. ‘Cause all You Wanted to do Was Dance

Bond remembered the first time he met Jeremy Braithwaite. He didn’t like him. It had almost been nine months since he and Q had separated. Nine months of avoiding each other within Vauxhall. Nine months of carefully worded replies as they spoke over the comms to each other during missions. It had been difficult, but they did it. Remained professional.

Alec and James were walking into Leicester Square late one evening. The theaters were getting out and the crowds were pouring into the streets and into the cafes. Music played out across the tall trees and laughter was coming for everywhere. It was the first time in a long time, Bond felt light, and relaxed. It was good. He and Alec had just returned for Brazil and were out drinking across London. They had just left one dance club and were on their way to another. James did not dance. He stood near the bar and watch Alec, as the tall Russian worked his way through the various willing ladies at the club. Alec was on a mission. Two women, one for each agent. Women who would be accommodating to the whims of very horny men. Bond thought it was a lost cause.

As they crossed through the square heading over to Charing Cross Road, Alec grabbed James arm. Bond paused and looked up at Alec. The man was nodding over to an open air café. James turned and saw them. Q and a blonde. Just as Bond noticed them, Q looked up and saw the agents. He ducked his head and turned back to speak to the blonde. The man turned and looked at Alec and Bond.

The two men crossed the pavement and walked over to the table. Bond didn’t even understand why he was doing it. It was an automatic response. Q and the blonde stood.

“Good evening, James and Alec. This is my friend Jeremy Braithwaite. Jeremy, these are my bosses, James and Alec Sterling.” Q said using the cover names assigned to Trevelyan and Bond. Universal Imports and Exports. Q was supposed to be a computer technician who worked for them.

“Phillip.” Alec said, nodding. Q kept his eyes down. He refused to look up into Bond’s face.

Braithwaite smiled and reached his hand out to shake the others. “So you are the two who have worked my little Philly so hard.”

Bond looked the man over carefully. His blonde hair was dyed and long. Longer than Q’s but the man had it styled professionally. Bond studied the tan. It was too even, no sign of tan line from his watch or a shade difference at the collar. The tan was from a salon and not from actual time in the sun. When Braithwaite turned his head, Bond noticed the scar just in the hair line. Cosmetic surgery. Of course. The hand shake was weak and the accent forced. He tried to sound posh, Harrow or some other public school, but he wasn’t quite pulling it off. Braithwaite was a fraud. A pretender.

Bond wondered if Q knew. He had to know. Q wouldn’t start seeing someone without doing a complete background check. Maybe that was why Q was using the cover identifications instead of his real one. Not anyone special to Q. Although he had apparently given the man his real name of Phillip.

“We’re heading off dancing.” Q said brightly turning away. Bond looked over to watch Q turn back and finally look at him. Q was smiling. It was the first smile he had seen the young man have in months.

“Oh? Where?” Alec asked noticing how Braithwaite was keeping his body between Bond and Q.

Braithwaite wrapped his arm around Q’s waist and pulled him tight to the blonde’s body. “My private club over on Whitecomb. We’d ask you but it is private.”

Bond wanted to throttle the man.

“No, we’re on a mission tonight. See you tomorrow, Phillip. Don’t be late to work.” Bond said as he grabbed Alec’s elbow and tried to push the man away from the pair. Q glared at Bond.

“Well, maybe just a little. We’re going to have a late night, aren’t we Philly?” Braithwaite joked. Now, Q was glaring at him.

Alec and James walked away and disappeared into the crowds on Irving. The evening’s mood having been ruined.

“Do you just want to get a cab and go back to mine?” Alec asked.

“No, I want to get my gun and shoot the bastard.” Bond said as he raised his hand at the hack stand.

 

Take You to Every Party ‘Cause all You Wanted to do Was Dance

 

Q loved dancing. It was something James and he could do that had nothing to do with MI6. Q was a good dancer. His thin frame and whipcord muscles caused his movements to be fluid and undulating. James preferred to watch Q move than actually join in with his dancing. James would move close and sway slightly side to side while his eyes feasted on the sensual movements of his lover. Two men dancing together was not unusual in the London night club scene, but James and Q were careful of which clubs they frequented. A certain level of security was necessary to maintains Bond’s composure.

It wasn’t that Bond didn’t like dancing, he just didn’t like dancing in clubs. The crowds and muted lighting set Bond’s defense reflexes on high alert. Add in loud music and flashing lights, it was mixture to trigger anyone with even the mildest PTSD, let alone a man who was a trained killer. Q would let Bond drink, but he refused to let Bond take any alprazolam. Q knew alcohol and tranquilizers were a bad combination.

James had been away for two and half weeks. It was their second night together and Q made sure they were both off. He wanted to go dancing very badly. He wanted to be able to hold James and caress him in public. Show the man off to the world. Let everyone know, how lucky Q really was. Q had James, the sexiest man alive. He had the handsome blonde with the devastating blue eyes all for himself. It was selfish and childish but he still wanted to do it. He wanted to dance.

The club was crowded and the music was loud. Q was wearing his black trousers James had insisted he buy. They were tight and showed off his arse nicely. Q also wore a dark blue button down shirt, although he had left several buttons undone. As he twisted, his torso was revealed to James. His pale skin accentuated by the dark fabric. Q’s raven curls tossed back and forth as he danced and his long thin hands seemed to be directing the music. James found him intoxicating. He couldn’t take his eyes off him and had trouble keeping his hands off of him.

James leaned in and kissed Q’s cheek as the music shifted from something fast to slow. Bond stepped closer and wrapped one arm around the narrow hips, his palm splayed out over Q’s lower back. Their hips met and slowly moved together. Q wrapped his arms around James neck and let the music move his body.

The crowd pushed in tighter and the lights darkened. James focus was on Q. His desire building for young man. That is when he felt it. A sharp jab just above his floating rib in the back. Bond stiffened, but Q kept swaying. A second jab then a muttered voice. An incoherent remark. A third jab.

Bond pushed Q back hard. Driving the young man back into the crowd as he spun around to attack. Q crashed to the floor dragging three people down with him. Bond attack the man standing behind him. Grabbing at the man’s wrist and punching his free hand through the man’s upper arm. Bond felt the bone snap under his hand. The man screamed and collapsed to the floor, cradling his broken arm. The crowds pushed back and people were screaming and rushing away from the maniac on the dance floor.

Bond looked down trying to find the gun the man must have been shoving into his back. There was none.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD, I SAID I WAS SORRY!” the man on the floor shouted. Tears of pain were streaking down his face. His accent was upper crust. Eton and Oxford.

Q quickly recovered and climbed to his feet.

“JAMES?!”

“HE HAD A GUN!” Bond kept looking around. The man had to be an assassin. He had to there to kill them.

“I DID NOT! I JUST BUMPED YOU!” the injured man cried out.

Q looked up in time to see the bouncers making their way through the crowds towards them.

“James we have got to leave. Now!” Q said pulling the agent away from the man on the floor.

Q pulled hard and dragged Bond back into the crowd and towards the back of the club. They found the door leading behind the stage and out into an alley. Q took off running, pulling Bond with him. When they were three blocks away, they stopped. Q turned and looked at Bond concerned.

“He had a gun, Q. I felt it.”

“He just bumped you, James. He was a bad dancer. I’d been watching him earlier. He bumped into several people with his elbows. He was drunk.”

“No!”

“James, there was no gun. Just his elbows.”

Bond glared at the young man. How would Q know what a gun felt like shoved in his back? Q had never been in the field. He stayed safe at home sending others out to die. Bond clenched his fist and gritted his teeth.

“I know . . .”

“James the reason I picked this club was the security there. As we walked in, the archway, remember? It’s a metal detector. They set it up after the shooting at other clubs in Europe. No one can sneak a gun in. We were safe.”

Bond leaned back as if Q had slapped him. A metal detector. He thought it was an odd entrance but he wasn’t paying much attention at the moment. He saw all the bouncers at the door. He saw the screen the man was looking at as they passed.

Bond realized he messed up. He had broken the arm of a civilian. Probably a rich civilian who would try and track them down. There would be a report and a disciplinary hearing. More time in Medical talking to psych. He covered his eyes with his hand.

“I’m sorry, Q. I . . . I made a mistake.”

Q stepped closer and pulled James hand down from his face. Then Q leaned in and kissed the man.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have insisted on going dancing this close to a mission. You weren’t ready. It was my fault.”

“No, Q, don’t . . .”

“Let’s go home. I need to scrub some CCTV logs.”

Q turned and waved his hand at a taxi. The black vehicle pulled up to the two men and James and Q climbed in.

Bond went and took a shower while Q went right to his computer once they got home. James was leaning against the wall of the shower, his face resting on his folded arm as the hot water reddened his back.

He could have killed that stranger tonight. He could have messed up so badly, not even Mallory could save him. He wondered who the man was. He wondered if Q had gotten to the CCTV cameras quickly enough to delete any videos with them. He felt sick. Why had he agreed to go dancing?

The door opened and Q slipped into the shower with him. The thin cool arms wrapping around Bond’s heated chest. Q laid his face between James’ shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry.”

Bond didn’t say anything.

“I just wanted to be normal for a while. To be like any other couple. I guess we’re not.” Q sighed as he turned his face to kiss the skin at the base of James’ neck.

“There’s nothing normal about either one of us, Q. You should know that by now.” James said without lifting his head up.

“I just wanted . . . never mind.” Q pulled away from Bond and stepped out of the shower.

James remained under the water as he heard the bathroom door close behind Q.

Was it really unreasonable for Q to want to go out dancing? James knew Q loved to dance. He enjoyed watching Q dance. The movement of Q’s body was erotic. It reminded him of how Q twisted as James took him apart. The arching of Q’s back and the long fingers reaching and grasping. Q was sex incarnate when he danced. James was a fool. He should let Q dance for him whenever he could.

James pulled in a deep breath of the warm moist air. This was his fault and not Q’s. The young man was seducing him on the dance floor and James was busy looking for false threats. Even if he had known there was no way someone could have had a weapon in the club, he still would have probably attacked the other man. Bond had been keyed up. Looking for an adversary. A reason to harm someone. Anyone. Thankfully not Q.

Bond turned off the shower and got out.

Q was laying on the bed in the dark when he heard the music from the other room. Confused, Q got out of bed and went to find James standing in the living room. A towel hung low over his hips and his blonde hair spiky from the water. James was holding his hand out for Q to take. The confused young man stepped closer and took James’ hand, being pulled closer and into an embrace. James started to sway, wrapping his arms around the younger man.

“I want to dance with you.” He whispered into Q’s ear.

Q laughed a little, then wrapped his arms around James. The two men swayed slowly around their living room, the music playing softly in the background, a single table lamp on. It helped. It was good.

Q rested his head on James’ shoulder and buried his face in the older man’s neck.

“I erased the CCTV footage. There will be no trace. I don’t think we can ever go back to that club again though.”

“That’s fine. I prefer here.” James twisted his face and kissed the tip of Q’s nose. “I’m sorry I ruined our evening.”

Q curled the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think it was ruined. In fact, I think it is going to be very enjoyable.”

James squeezed the young man tighter and sighed. He hoped it was going to be too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcomed and appreciated.


	5. My Pride, my Ego, my Needs, and my Selfish Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be rough. Bond is a real bastard in it. There is inappropriate sex in it. It is not non-com but is border line abusive. Please read with caution. 
> 
> There is happy sex in the beginning then unhappy sex about the middle of the chapter. Skip if you don't like, please.

It was half of four in the morning and James sat alone in the dark. He was laying on the bed, his shoulders and head resting back on the head board. It was quiet. No street sounds were reaching the flat. The music had stopped hours before. The city seemed unnaturally quiet tonight. The only sound Bond heard was the ticking of a clock. It was odd. It wasn’t his alarm clock, that was digital. It wasn’t his wristwatch ticking. He glanced around the darken room trying to remember if he had a travel alarm or some kind of fob watch in the bed room. He couldn’t remember.

The ticking continued. A remorseful sound of regret and lost. Time passing him by. Lost opportunities. Bond brought the bottle to his lips and took another deep drink. He realized what the ticking was. It was his life. Slipping passed him, leaving him with nothing.

He had a chance. He had an opportunity at happiness. A life with Q. A man who understood him and loved him. Bond had a future with Q, a life. He had it in his hands, but instead of grasping hold as tightly as he could, he opened his fingers and pushed it away. Pushed Phillip into the arms of someone else.

Bond sat in the dark and listened to his life tick away.

 

My Pride, my Ego, my Needs, and my Selfish Ways

 

Q and James had lived together for just over a year, but which half of it Bond had been away on missions. It was difficult on them but they made it work. They both understood the demands of the job and were willing to make the sacrifices. When they could they would grasp hold of moments together. That’s what their lives were. Just moments. A collection of brief pieces of time. That’s is all Bond was willing to allow. He wouldn’t let Q speak of the future. He wouldn’t let Q plan things out. For a man who created things, designed and built, it was frustrating but Q let it be James’ decision.

That is why James’ birthday was impromptu. It was just a night at the pub. Nothing planned. Nothing arranged. Q had invited Alec and Eve to join them in drinks and storytelling. That is how they ended up at the local with pints in front of them and laughing loudly. Alec was telling a story of how James tried to lasso a camel while they were stuck in Iraq waiting for an extraction. They had completed their mission but had missed their contact to get out. So now they were stuck for another forty-eight hours while a new team was being sent.

James got bored of sitting around while drinking, when he decided he could be a cowboy. He had done very well at crafting a proper lasso and practiced with it over and over again. But after ten hours of snagging the nearby inanimate objects like chairs and buckets, he decided that wasn’t good enough. Bond decided to go after a camel. By the third try he not only lassoed the camel but succumb to the alcohol they had been drinking. That is why he forgot to let go of the rope as the animal spooked and dragged him off over the sand dune and into the desert.

Q was laughing hard. Tears were welling up in his eyes at the thought of James being dragged over the sand by a crazed camel. James of course was laughing a Q. The exuberant laughter of the young man, James found infectious. He loved to hear Q laugh. He loved to see Q so uninhibited. Both men didn’t even noticed when Eve snapped a photo of the two of them in such an unguarded moment.

It had been an enjoyable evening with friends and James let Q know how much he appreciated it.

“Not as much as you will later,” Q whispered into the man’s ear as they walked into their flat.

Half an hour later, James was sitting on the bed, his back against the head board as Q lowered himself on to James’ lap. Q gripped the headboard and braced himself as he groaned loudly. The heat and tension of the young man’s body was overwhelming to James. Q was undulating and pulled James closer to edge along with himself. James’ hand caressed over the smooth skin and long whipcord muscles. Q was like a greyhound. Slick with lean muscle. A contradiction. He was reserved but with James, like this, he was passionate and boisterous. He made Bond hunger for this connection again, even before they were finished.

Just as Q reached his climax and shouted out James’ name, the blonde felt the tightening muscles and the warmth of Q’s release on his stomach. Bond leaned forward and bit hard at the connection between Q’s shoulder and neck. He pulsed deep in the young man. Q twitching with each surge from James. It was perfect. It was affirming.

Q slumped forward and collapsed into James’ arms, too exhausted to do much more. Bond twisted them so he was on his back and Q was nestled in his arms. They were both too tired to care to clean up. They fell happily asleep, warmed by each other’s presence.

The next thought Q had was the sensation of someone kissing across his hip and lower abdomen. He awoke and looked down to see James hovering over his more than interested cock.

“Good morning. I’ve been waiting for you.” James smirked as he bent down and started to tease and lick at Q’s length.

The young man’s eyes rolled back into his head as his body arched up into the other man’s. The warm breath playing over Q’s sensitive skin, the slight stubble of a day old beard barely scratching at his inner thighs. Q was pleading and begging as James would push him to the very edge then back off. Holding off Q’s climax while the young man panted and moaned. It was torturous, it devilish, it was exquisite. James looked up at Q’s flushed body. The pale pink blush of arousal tinting the white skin. Q’s hair even more disheveled and wild. The young man twisting and groaning in pleasure. By the third rise to crest the wave, Q was unable to anything but beg.

“Please, please, James, please.”

James hummed along the length and smiled. He took Q all the way down and pinned him to the bed. Q came screaming, pouring himself down James’ throat.

“I love you, I love you, I . . . oh, God, please, I love you!”

As soon as James felt the last shudder flow through Q’s body, he raised up on his knees and took himself in hand. Only a few quick jerks and he was painting across Q’s flushed skin. Q looked like a fallen angel, twisted in the sheets, his hair mussed and disarrayed, his skin streaked with James’ seed and his expression pure ecstasy. James looked down at the young man and felt the explosion in his chest. The want for the boy. Even just having come, James wanted Q again. A want so strong it was almost painful in its intensity.

James collapsed over Q, catching his weight on his elbows just before he crushed the young man. Their lips meeting and fitting together perfectly. This all James wanted. This young perfect man. He smiled into the kiss as he felt the slick slide of semen between their bodies.

“I need to get us cleaned up.” James whispered between kisses.

“I’m not leaving this bed today.” Q whispered back. “You can get a flannel and clean me up.”

James leaned back and looked into Q’s eyes. A smug grin on the man’s face. “Demanding are we?”

“And worth it.” Q smiled brightly.

James laughed and lifted himself off Q and headed to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and let it run warm while he grabbed a flannel and started cleaning himself off. He would return with a warm cloth for Q but James could clean up with the cold water.

James looked up into the mirror as he started cleaning himself. His eyes traveled over to a healing injuries from his last mission. A knife wound to his side that required stitches. Dried blood clung tightly to the black threads. Then his gaze traveled higher to the bruises on his arms and chest and then over to the scar of an older gunshot wound. So many scars, so much damage.

He glanced up and saw his refection in the mirror. The worn lines in his face, the healing gash through his eyebrow. His graying hair. Bond looked at himself critically and felt a pain in his chest that only moments ago felt the incredible love and devotion for Q. He saw the tired, damaged man Q had just proclaimed love to. He saw a man with deep and ugly scars not just to his body but to his soul. He saw the eyes that had seen far too much in his forty years.

Bond stood still just staring at himself when the door of the bathroom opened and Q slipped in. The young man curled up behind James and wrapped his long thin arms around the man. Q looked at James’ reflection in the mirror over the man’s shoulder.

“I got tired of waiting and I thought a shower together this morning would be nice.”

Bond locked eyes on Q’s reflection and compared their two faces together in the mirror. Q, young and vibrant. Excited and happy. Bond’s grizzled and worn, hair with patches of gray. Q’s eyes were warm with flecks of jade and gold. Bond’s eyes were cold and icy, eyes that would never warm another’s soul. Bond closed his eyes and dipped his head down.

“Is something wrong?” Q asked watching Bond turn away from their reflection.

“No, just start the shower. I forgot something I need to do this morning.”

“What? Can it wait? I wanted to spend the day together. I thought maybe later we could take a picnic to the park.” Q sounded so youthful and exuberant. James wanted to believe it was enough to revitalize him. But he knew it wasn’t.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

Bond pushed away and stepped out the bathroom. Q followed him out and watched at James quickly dressed and moved to leave.

“You’ll hurry?”

“Yeah, but don’t wait for me. Do whatever you want.”

“What I want to do requires you being here.” Q smiled seductively. Bond didn’t answer him as he closed the door and left.

Bond did not return for several hours. He walked around London trying to work out what was the best way to save Q. The best way to protect Q from himself.

The day was warm and people were everywhere in the city. There was no place where Bond could go and be alone with his thoughts. He remember how he felt when Q called out his name and said he loved him. The blooming warmth that filled him to the point he thought he would explode with it. How desperate Bond became for the young man. To hold him, to care for him. It burned the intensity of his love for Q. It was overwhelming, but that was the problem. Q loved him and he loved Q. The young man had everything Bond could want in a lover. Intelligence, devotion and beauty. What did Bond have that Q could possible want?

Bond did not deluded himself. He knew he was getting old. He knew he only had a few years left as an active field agent. If he survived those years in the field then he was a liability when he retired. A trained assassin didn’t just give up killing. If he wasn’t in the field what was left for him? Teaching others his skill? More than likely, Mallory would have him put down like a rabid dog. Better safe than sorry and let Bond lose control and go on a rampage. Go rogue.

Bond knew he had no future. What kind of future would Q have with someone like him? Bond thought about the other people who had fallen in love with him. Vesper and Tracy. Both of the women were dead. Killed. One by her own hand and the other by his enemy. People who care for Bond didn’t last long. Everyone he cared for died. Even M. She died in his arms. Could Bond face a future where Q would die before him? Could he be the one left behind, alone with another lover ripped from his arms? Another beautiful soul destroyed. Would there be anything left of Bond if that happened?

Bond kept walking through the city. The various thoughts clouding his head with regret and fear. He needed to separate himself from Q. He needed to do this for Q. Sometimes you need to punch a drowning man to save him. Bond knew he would have to hurt Q, force him to leave. Break the tenuous link between the two of them. Give Q his future back. A future without James Bond in it.

Bond yanked the door open of their flat and glared at the young man. He would make sure Q would hate him.

“James, where have you been? I’ve been texting you . . .” Q looked at the feral look in Bond’s face. The man’s eyes were brightly burning and staring straight at him.

“On your knees,” growled Bond. Q obediently fell to his knees looking up expectantly at the man.

Bond stepped closer and unbuckled his belt. He slowly opened his waistband and pulled the zipper down on his jeans. Q’s eyes were fixed on Bond’s and did not look away. Bond reached forward with one hand and grabbed Q’s hair, pulling it tight as he guided Q’s mouth the man’s hard cock. Q relaxed and allowed the intrusion. But that wasn’t enough. Bond was going to make sure Q would fear him, turn away from him. Save himself from Bond. As Q’s jaw relaxed, Bond started thrusting forward. Abusing the young man who only moaned instead. It became feral and primitive. Taking and not giving. As Bond went deep, cutting off Q’s oxygen, tears clouded Q’s hazel eyes and streamed down his face. Bond closed his eyes so he could not see the doubt start to draw across Q’s face. Just at the last moment, Bond pulled back and painted the young man’s face with his seed. The globs clinging to his lips and eyelashes.

Bond slowly released Q’s hair and fell backwards into the wall, panting. Stars streaked across his vision and his bones seemed to be made of jelly. But the climax was not fulfilling. It drained James, and made him want to cry out in disgust. He slid down the wall and collapsed into a pile. Opening his eyes, he saw Q’s confusion and emotional pain.

Q’s tear stained face still had Bond’s release streaked across it. Q bowed his face down and wiped the cum from it. He was shaking and still crying. It had not been pleasant for either man. James reached out to take Q’s hand, but the young man pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” James whispered. He could feel the sharp cold stab in his heart. He hated himself.

Q remained silent.

“Please, I don’t know why I did that. Please forgive me.”

“You did because you needed too.” Q sounded like a lost child. His voice wrecked by James’ force, his face smeared with humiliation.

“I didn’t, I . . . I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

This time when James reached out for Q, the young man took his hand. James pulled him closer, and wrapped him up in his arms. The pain tearing at each man. The two of them lay there on the floor together for an hour. Just holding each other and listening to each other breath.

After that, James became more and more distant to Q. They lived together, but Bond went out seeking reasons for not being at home with him in the flat. He volunteered for more missions and stayed in the field longer than was necessary. It became evident to everyone they were slowly falling apart.

When Q asked if Bond would consider going to couple counseling with him, Bond refused and spent the next two days sleeping on Alec’s couch. James didn’t know that Alec was call Q every few hours and keeping the young man informed. Finally, when Bond returned home Q was sitting patiently on the leather couch waiting for him.

“Is there someone else?” Q asked as Bond closed the door.

“What?!” Bond’s head snapped around staring at the young man.

“Is there someone else? Do you want me to leave?”

James could hear himself screaming in his head ‘NO!’ He could feel the fear of losing the man in front of him. He fought against himself. His conscious and his emotions.

“No, there is no one else. No, I don’t want you to leave.” Bond crossed the room and knelt down in front of the young man. “I’m afraid Q.”

“Of what?”

“For you. I’m afraid for you.” Bond reached up and cupped his palm to Q’s face. His thumb dragging slowly across Q’s cheek and under the red rimmed eye.

“Are you afraid you’re going to hurt me? Because the way you’ve been treating me since your birthday has hurt.” Q said his eyes fixed on James’ as he pushed into the hand.

“I’m afraid you don’t understand what it means to be in love with me.”

Q rolled his eyes. “So tell me, what is it I don’t understand? The time away from home, or the danger you are constantly in, or the fact you have to do things you dislike. You do realize I’m the one there listening to you the whole time. I’m the one fighting as hard as I can to bring you home. I’m the one here to put you back together again after you return. Maybe I don’t understand how painful it is to see you walk out that door and not know if I may see you again. Or that I have to share your body with people I hate and want dead. Maybe I don’t understand why you are trying so hard to tear us apart? So tell me what you are afraid of?”

“Phillip, I have no future. We have no future.”

Q leaned back and pulled away from James touch. His eyes started to shine bright with tears.

“How can you say that? I love you. I have no future without you.”

“Please, Phillip, understand! I . . . I . . . I love you too!” There it was, Bond finally admitted it out loud. “I love you but it doesn’t change the fact, we have no possible future. We can’t have more than today.”

Q’s heart was pounding in his chest. James had said he loved him. He had actually said it. Q slipped off the couch and into James’ waiting arms.

“Then today is all we need.” Q kissed James’ mouth.

The older man held tight to the Quartermaster wondering if today was going to be enough.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful comments and encouragements. I know this is a very sad story but there is a happy ending. I'm working through some issues of my own right now and pouring myself into my writing helps. You all are the greatest and I thank you.


	6. He’s Dancing with Another Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything blows up in James' face.

Two days after Bond had received the wedding invitation, he woke up alone in his flat. It was Monday morning and he was due into MI6 for a briefing. He stumbled in to the kitchen and saw the invitation on the table next to the three empty liquor bottles. He tried to remember if he had eaten anything in the last forty-eight hours. He didn’t think so. All his stomach was up for was dry toast and weak tea. It tasted like ashes on his tongue.

Bond had stayed out of Q’s way since they had split. Except for the time in Leicester Square and briefings, he never saw Q. It torn him down every time anyone mentioned Q around him. He started shunning everyone from MI6 except Alec. Alec understood. He had been there. He had watched as James blew apart the best thing the agent ever had.

Bond stayed to the gymnasium and the shooting range and out of the executive branch and Q Branch. It was his rules. No contact then no regret. That Monday morning, Bond broke his rule and went to see Q. He walked in carrying a bouquet of flowers. White roses and yellow mums, the same flowers they had shared with M.

Q was working at his computer station. His back was to the door as the man entered. Bond listened to Q’s voice. The same sharp clear diction and cutting wit. Bond remembered when Q used to tease and joke with him over the comm links, but after Bogota he quit. Q remained professional but distant. Calm and detached. Bond hated it.

Q was working the new 009 through a mission in Cairo as Bond remained silent behind him. The minions noticed Bond and their apprehension grew. Bond looked around and felt the tension rising. He watched as R finally realized he was there and marched over to him.

“007, may I help you?” Her tone was not helpful in the least. She did not want him there.

“I wanted to congratulate Q.” He raised the bouquet for her to see. R thinned her lips and hardened her glare.

“Do you think that is appropriate?” She looked like she wanted to slap him.

“R, I just want him to know I’m happy for him.” Bond softened his tone. His head was hurting and his muscles felt exhausted. He didn’t want to be here but he still needed to be.

“Just leave him alone Bond. You and Brathwaite have done enough damage.”

Bond heard the words but couldn’t make the connection. He looked back up at the Quartermaster standing with his back to him. His same slightly sloping shoulders, his narrow hips. The same toss of wild raven hair.

“What happened?”

“Just leave. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“R?”

She maneuvered herself to stand between Bond and Q then put her hands on her hips and stared at him. He pushed her aside and marched up to Q’s side. The young man turned to look up at the agent. Bond saw the dark bruise on the side of Q’s face. The broken blood vessels in his left eye. The dark imprint of an abusive hand on Q’s skin.

The flowers fell to the floor.

 

Now my Baby is Dancing but He’s Dancing with Another Man

 

Bond knew something was wrong as soon as he returned to London after that last mission. He and Q had been fighting before he had left for Bogotá. Even after they had admitted their love for each other, James couldn’t get passed the idea Q would leave him. One of them being left alone while the other was dead. No future, no hope. It weighted on the man, consuming his thoughts. He became argumentative and belligerent. Q kept pushing for counseling and Bond kept drinking. Then he left for his mission in South America.

Bond seemed to have a death wish that last mission they were together. He was getting into fist fights and running into traffic. He crashed the boat he stole and then crashed a helicopter. Q started demanding he quit taking ridiculous chances. After Bond had been shot in the upper arm, the bullet passing through without breaking bone, Q lost his composure.

“Damn it Bond, are you trying to get yourself killed!” he shouted into the comm link.

“Better than coming home to you.” Bond hissed back.

The line went silent. Bond wanted to punch himself. He was angry, but the young man didn’t deserve that. A few moments later R came on the comm link.

“007, go to the next village. There is a Father Dominquez there. He runs a church. He works for us. He will be able to patch you up and get you supplies.”

“Where is Q?” Bond asked.

“Unavailable.” R answered.

Bond made it to the small village and to the Catholic priest. The man was well equipped and was expecting Bond. The next day, Q was back on the comm link. He was calm and professional. When Bond tried to ask personal questions though, Q would change the subject. He would not talk about anything but the mission. He never once said anything regarding Bond’s reckless behavior.

On the plane home, Bond planned out everything he was going to say to Q. He would agree to counseling and start planning a future if Q would just forgive him. If he would just give Bond one more chance.

When James stepped into the flat, he knew something was wrong. Everything seemed to have shifted slight to the left in his world. He couldn’t quite understand why. The same furniture was still there. The telly and the navy blue couch with Q’s throw. The pictures on the walls and the scent of the two men who lived there. James looked around then he noticed it. The photograph was gone. Q’s favorite photograph of the two of them.

Bond dashed to the bedroom and tore open the wardrobe. Q’s clothes were gone. He went to the spare bedroom Q used as a home office. It was empty. The plastic boxes of electronic equipment were gone, the drawing of Q’s projects that had been tacked to the walls were missing. Q had left James.

Bond slowly walked back into the living room and collapsed on the couch. He looked up at the blank space that once held the photograph of the two of them. Q was laughing in it. His face creased as his lips were pulled back over his teeth and his mouth opened. He looked so youthful and spontaneous. Q had been looking up and to the left. Frozen in a joyous moment of delight. James was sitting next to him, turned in profile. The smile on James’ face reached up and wrinkled the man’s eyes. James’ hand was resting on Q’s shoulder. The smoke from the cigarette in James’ hand blurred the lines of his face slightly. While Q’s expression was sharp and clear, James’ was softened and muted, but one could tell the agent was looking at Q in complete and total love for the young man. It was a wonderful photograph. One of the few of two of them together. Of course Q would take it. It was one of the few things James cherished.

He sat there in the silence in the flat for hours, just staring forward at the empty place on the shelf. He knew he deserved this. He knew he had to be alone. It was the only safe thing for both of them, but it still hurt. Q wouldn’t even discuss it with him. He just left. Ran away. The longer Bond sat the angrier he became.

The bloody little bastard. If he can’t face me, then damn him.

Two weeks later Bond moved to a different flat. He took the couch.

*****

“Have you spoken to Q?” Alec asked hesitantly. He looked down at the half empty bottle of alcohol on the counter in the new flat. He wondered how many other empty bottles he would find in the trash.

“Why the fuck should I?” James picked up another box and started unpacking it.

“The two of you lived together for over a year. You’ve been in a relationship with him for almost two. Longer than anyone else I’ve ever seen you with.”

“We weren’t in a relationship. He was just someone I fucked.” Bond hissed.

“If anyone ever said that to you, you would rip their heads off. Don’t fucking lie to me, James. I know what happened there. I know who he is to you.”

Bond glared at Alec. He wondered if he was too drunk to take him in a fight. He probably was. Bond collapsed into a chair and pulled a box over to start unpacking it.

“He wanted more than I could give him.”

“So?”

“He will be better with someone else.” James admitted out loud for the first time to someone else.

“Bollocks.”

“He wants a future. Do you really think we have futures?”

“Just because there is a good chance you’ll get blown up or shot or drowned on you next mission doesn’t mean you can’t have a future. He could get run over walking across the street.”

“Then why plan for something that won’t happen?” Bond reached for the bottle.

“Why not?” Alec pulled the bottle away from him.

Bond fell back into the chair staring at his friend. “Q is special, Alec. He deserves better than a scarred, broken man.”

“What do you deserve?” Alec asked raising an eyebrow.

“Not Q.”

Alec shook his head. He stood up and went to grab another box to unpack. “Don’t you think your martyrdom is a little over the top?”

“My what?”

“Martyrdom. I mean really, fuck, James, you love him. It’s bloody obvious. He loves you. So why not try to make it work?”

Bond looked away and went back to the contents of the box. Pulling out books and videos and placing them on the floor. “I just ended it before someone got hurt, that’s all.”

“I think it was too late to avoid someone getting hurt. Q’s been a first rate bastard since you two broke up.”

Bond looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“He told Tanner to go get stuffed when the man brought him a report to handled, and then he led 002 into the Paris sewers to collect the gun he dropped down a storm drain. It seems he is taking his frustration with you out on everyone else.”

Bond looked back into the box. “We haven’t talked in a while. I didn’t know.”

“Well, don’t show up at MI6. I think 002 is planning to take his revenge on you instead of Q.”

“Q will be fine. Maybe 002 should take him out to dinner and apologize instead of holding me responsible.”

“You’d be okay with that?” Alec looked up at Bond. “With Q moving on to someone else?”

“Of course,” Bond said without looking up. He would hate every moment of it.

“Well, then, maybe I’ll ask the little boffin out for a night a slap and tickle.”

Bond head snapped up. Alec could see the anger and glare from the man’s face. Bond pushed himself off the chair and lunged at the other agent. Alec knew what Bond was going to do before he did it. The tall Russian easily avoid the tackle and pushed his drunk friend to the floor. Alec twisted James’ hand behind his back and placed a knee between the man’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the floor.

Bond cursed and yelled at Alec, while the blonde just laughed. “Yeah, keep telling yourself you don’t care. You’ll kill anyone who tries to date Q.”

“I would rather see him dating someone else than kill him myself!”

Alec pushed back off James’ back. “What?”

“It’s safer for him away from me. He’ll be safer in someone else’s bed.” James rolled up off the floor and slumped against the chair. “Face it, Alec, innocent people just get hurt around me. If anything ever happened to Q, I just don’t . . . I don’t want to think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go. I want to thank everyone for your wonderful support and comments. You are the best. 
> 
> I'm thinking of a new story with our boys set in the prison AU. I would like to know what you think.


	7. Done All the Things I Should Have Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter. Mentions of domestic violence, but only briefly.

Done All the Things I Should Have Done

James Bond paced inside Q’s office. He had been exiled to there by Bill Tanner who had come in just in time to see the department erupt in a brawl.

James had seen the bruises on Q’s face and he knew he was going to go kill Jeremy Brathwaite. He turned to go after the man when Q reached out to grab him. Bond shrugged Q off of himself and kept walking away. The young man shouted at James to stop, but he kept marching to the door. Q responded by tackling Bond in the middle of TSS. The new 009 was still on the com link waiting for instructions as Q and James were rolling across the floor, wrestling. The minions were first in shock then anger. They thought their chief was in trouble and came to Q’s rescue.

As James paced back and forth, he promised himself he would learn the identity of the tech who had kicked him up his backside. He would either throttle the individual or buy them a drink.

At least five techs as well as R had come to Q’s aid. There was shouting and punches and then Tanner yelling at everyone to stand down. Now, the chief of staff sat on the couch and watched the double ‘O’ pace. The jovial appearance of Tanner hid the anger and resolve of the man. He was furious with Bond. And Bond was furious with all of them.

“When did this happen?” Bond demanded looking at the closed door. Q was still in the bull pen working with 009.

“Saturday night, I was called back here with an emergency. When I got here, Q was at the security desk. Police had been called and he filed a formal complaint against the boyfriend.”

“Why wasn’t I called?”

“Why should you? It’s not like Q owes you an explanation.” Bond spun around and glared at the man. “Don’t you dare act like the injured party here, Bond. You’ve been a right bastard to Q for the past several months. He was trying to get on with his life. No, we didn’t call you. You were the last person Q needed.” Tanner stood and marched over to Bond. “He doesn’t need your ego now. Stop thinking you are the center of his universe.”

The words hurt more than Bond thought words could. Q didn’t need him. Q didn’t want him. Bond’s hand twitched. He wanted to do something violent. He wanted to lash out, cause pain, make someone suffer, bring fear. He wanted to save Q.

The door of the office opened and Q walked in and closed it. He did not look at the two men as he went over to his drafting table. “The mission in Cairo is complete. 009 is contacting the extraction team now. ETA to Lakenheath, ten hours,” he said as he sat down. Twisting the chair, he finally faced Tanner and Bond. “Margo says you owe her a new pair of shoes, 007. Apparently she broke the strap on the ones she’s wearing when she kicked you up the arse.”

Tanner coughed to cover a laugh. Margo Turner was all of five foot nothing with purple streaked hair and a nose ring. Not an intimidating assassin.

“I will notify M. Thank you, Q.” Tanner said as he opened the door, “Bond, let’s go.”

“I need to talk to Q.” Bond said staring at the young man’s face.

“I don’t think . . .”

“Bond will be leaving as soon as we have a short conversation.” Q interrupted the other man. Tanner looked back and forth between the two.

“Are you sure, Q?” Tanner asked. Q nodded. “Alright, I’ll let Margo know, you may require her assistance again.”

James finally turned and looked at the man, an incredulous eyebrow raised. This time Q tried to hide the smirk. “Thank you, Tanner.”

The door closed and left the two men alone.

“Why didn’t you call me?” James asked softly. He remained on the opposite side of the room, hesitant to approach the young man.

“I just wanted to get away from him, I didn’t want him dead.”

“You think I would have killed him?”

Q seemed surprised by the question. He never actually considered James’ feeling for him had cooled so much that Bond wouldn’t come to defend him. Q felt the hole in chest grow deeper and wider. He felt cold and wondered if this was delayed shock or the drain of adrenalin from fighting with Bond. He was so tired and blinked several times then bowed his head.

“I may have overestimated your response. I was ashamed of what had happened. If you were involved deeper, it would have complicated things more.”

James could feel the doubt and remorse pouring off the man. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

Bond wasn’t only thinking of Brathwaite.

“You’re awfully sure of your assessment without knowing the situation.”

“Then tell me what happened, please.”

Q sighed heavily and looked up. Bond could see he had been stuck at least three separate times in the face. He wondered if there were other injuries hidden under the cardigan.

“It was about you. Jeremy told me he sent you an invitation. I was furious. I told him he was an idiot and he shouldn’t have done that. He said he wanted to make sure you knew it was over and you would never have me again.” Q blinked again as a slight blush tinted his cheeks. “I told him he was imagining things and that you wouldn’t want me back. He didn’t believe me. He found the photograph of the two of us. I had hidden it in my computer bag. I yelled at him for going through my things and for not trusting me and . . . well, there were a lot of things wrong. He took offence at being yelled at and hit me. Apparently, that felt good to him, so he hit me again.”

“Was this the first time he hit you?”

“I maybe a fool, Bond but I’m not a masochist. It was the first and last time he will ever hit me.”

James stepped closer and looked down in the red rimmed eyes. He brought his hand up and gently caressed the unbruised side of Q’s face.

“I would never call you a fool, Phillip. You love with all of your heart.”

Q closed his eyes and shivered at James’ touch. “But that doesn't seem to matter to the people I love.”

“We’re the fools, Phillip. Not you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I would do anything to take it back.” James lowered his hand but stepped closer to Q.

“There is nothing to do.” He opened his eyes to look up at James. “Why did you bring the flowers? Were you taunting me?”

“No,” James felt hurt by the accusation. “I wanted to congratulate you. I want you to be happy. I had hoped you had found the future you wanted.”

“Future? Ha. With a shallow narcissistic twat. Did you know he spends more time at the tanning salon than you do drinking?” Q tried to change the subject.

“Are you still in the same flat with him?”

“No, I haven’t been back since Saturday night. Tanner has set me up in one of the safe houses.”

Bond leaned back slightly, then looked around the office. “No, I’ve seen the safe houses. You’re coming home with me.”

“James, no. That won’t work.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have the bed. I won’t let you stay in some rat infested safe house and you are never to see that bastard again.”

“James, no.” Q dropped his voice lower.

“Please, Phillip. I have . . . I can’t let you suffer any more. I was a fool. An idiot. I pushed you away because I was scared you would get hurt. That something bad would happen to you if you stayed. I thought you would be better off without me around.”

Q laugh was just an exhalation of breath. “I can see where I’m so much better off now.”

“I was wrong. I know I was wrong. I know I have lost any chance of being happy now, but I don’t want to think I’ve lost you completely. We were friends once. Please let a friend help a friend.”

James could see Q’s eyes cloud over with tears. “I’m sorry you’re not happy. I thought leaving you would make you so.”

“I made you believe that. Like I said, I’m an idiot. And you’re an idiot for believing me. But honestly, I just wanted you happy and safe. I regret I couldn’t do that for you.”

“You can’t force other people to be happy, James. I found that out with you. I just want us to be like any other couple, but we never were.”

“We never could be, but the truth is the happiest I have ever been was when I was with you. You made me whole for the first time in my life. And I only blame myself for what happened.”

“There were two of us there, James. We both share in the failure.”

“I wish we could . . . well, that’s not important.”

“What?”

James looked hesitant, then let his heart speak. “I wish we could start over again. Try again for a future.”

“I think futures are overrated. I am more interested in the present.” Q looked down at his hands. James could sense Q’s self-doubt. Why wouldn’t the young man be doubting himself? The last two relationships he had be in were with complete bastards. Brathwaite and himself.

“Don’t give up, Phillip. You are a remarkable man. Someone with so much to give a partner. There is someone perfect for you. I’m sorry . . . never mind.” Q looked up at James and saw the bright blue eyes shining at him.

“So?”

“So, if you don’t want to sleep in my bed, you can take the couch.”

Q laughed for real this time as his expression softened. “Oh, no. You promised me the bed, you get the sore back.”

James finally smiled back. “Friends?”

“Friends.” Q held out his hand and James took it and shook it; just as the door opened and Margo poked her head in.

“Boss, everything okay?” she asked.

Q smiled at her. “Yes, Margo. Thank you.”

“Good, and Bond, I want two pairs of shoes. One with steel toes.”

Bond raised his hand in surrender. “Yes, mu’m.”

She closed the door and James turned back to Q.

“This doesn’t change anything you know. I’ll spend a night or two until I can find my own place. We are not getting back together.” Q said slowly standing. His muscles screaming at him.

“I realize.” James watched carefully as he assessed Q’s injuries. He was going to enjoy his next visit with Brathwaite.

“I don’t want you to think I need you to rescue me.”

“No, I think the minions have that well under control.” Q smiled. “Phillip, if there was a chance for us again, a chance to start over, would you risk it?”

Q frowned and cocked his head to the side. “You hurt me very badly, James. You made me doubt myself and I ended up with a man I knew was trouble. He didn’t deserve me.” Q looked down at James’ shoes. “I don’t know, but ever since I found out he mailed you the invitation. Ever since Saturday night, I’ve been remembering all the things we did together. What we meant to one another. How special you made me feel when you asked me to stay. How much I really loved you and still partially do.” Q looked back up into James’ face. “I want to believe, maybe, yes.”

“Thank you for being honest.” James swallowed and then reached out and grasped Q’s hand. “I would want to take the risk, too.”

 

Epilogue

Five months later, the sun was still warm even for late in the fall, as the group gathered outside the registrar’s office and waited. James and Q were finishing with the paperwork before they stepped out with their friends. Everyone tossed rice and cheered. Both men wore a white rose in their lapels, while Q made sure Eve and Margo had yellow mum corsages. Alec and Bill Tanner were there too, as well as a half dozen members of Q Branch. Everyone was excited.

A month earlier, members of the Met came to interview Bond in regards to assault charges made by one Jeremy Brathwaite. The man claimed he was attacked and beaten severely by Bond. But when the police interviewed Bond and Q and learned that both of them were at a ceremony rewarding Bond with an OBE by both Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge, they left and filed charges against Brathwaite for making a false report. Later, Brathwaite was arrested for failure to pay Inland Revenue for five years. He claimed he had, but all the electronic records proving he had done so were nonexistent. On the day James and Phillip were married, Jeremy Brathwaite found himself being sent to prison for tax evasion and fraud. No one was surprised.

James and Phillip promised each other they would live in the moment and not worry about the future. They also promised not to second guess the other and to let each other know what made them happy. Afterwards, they went dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful support and encouragement. I hope it ended on a happier note than the rest of it. It was a very depressing story for February but hopefully March will have a more adventurous story.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment are like candy, please let me know what you think.


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